Running Games
by ellabellbee
Summary: "He felt for the first time like he was running to something."  George goes to the gym after a shift and see Alex on the track, and then again in the shower.  Naked flirting, slash if you squint.  Written mid-season 2.


**I'm finally archiving my stuff from LJ here. Posted on LJ 2006-12-08. Written for the bubbleficathon. Prompts: shower, bath gel, and the dangers of getting soap in one's eyes.**

**Pairing:** Alex / George, flirting only

**Timeline:** Middle of second season, after the heart-in-the-elevator, before he sleeps with Meredith.

* * *

><p>George had always been small. Growing up as the youngest in his family, he had never been the biggest or the tallest or the strongest. During recess when all the kids were picking sides for Red Rover, he was always the last picked, and one of the first to be called over to the other side, because the other kids knew he'd never get through their arms.<p>

When picked on by his older brothers, the bigger kids at school, and at times, rough-housed by his father, he had learned hard and fast that the way to get away wasn't to kick harder or yell or scream louder, it was to either outsmart or outrun his tormentors. Being small may have been the best thing that every happened to him; it forced him to develop his mind early and it led him to running track.

Being small had its advantages. His hips were narrow and his build slight, allowing him to gain speed without extra bulk slowing him down. He had agility and grace, something that most of his teammates lacked, and the small amount of muscle he gained really made a difference in his physique. Of course, that agility and grace never transferred itself into his everyday life, and his leg and calf muscles never attracted the attention he wanted. Instead, the girls towering above him in junior high and denying him dates in senior years laughed at his earnestness and hopefulness.

He spent a lot of time in the library and at the gym in high school.

But George loved to run. He ran through junior high, he ran through high school. He ended up with enough scholarships between his near-perfect marks and track to pay for his undergraduate degree. But he was never the jock, never the one that got any attention - but then again, that's not really what he wanted.

He started running track less when he entered medicine. The long nights, getting used to working around the clock, and the constant studying held him back from a regular running routine. He soon stopped all together, forgetting the runner's high, the endorphins that were released for the last leg of his marathon. He stopped running for the thrill, and then only ran when his overtired body refused to obey his alarm clock.

It's not like he had time now to run anyhow, but something over the past year had started to awaken inside of him. He was experiencing personality traits that he had admired in others but never recognized in himself. He felt courage, and for the first time, confidence as well. The heart surgery in the elevator, the ability to answer all of Bailey's questions, standing up to his father for the first time in his life... he liked the person that he was turning into. At least, in terms of his personality, his mind. He had let his body slide.

So he joined the gym at the hospital. It was mostly used by the physiotherapy department, but it was 24 hours and close, and the best part, mostly free. Plus, none of the other interns went there, so there was no one to watch and joke about how scrawny he had become.

He started slow, with a couple of laps around the track to get his heart rate up, but it wasn't long before his legs and lungs responded, willing him - pushing him - forward, his breath coming out in even puffs, the long strides coming naturally smooth, and the sweat cooling his torso. With each trip the gym he could feel his body changing, becoming more confident, and the muscle memory started kicking in, helping him along. Though he couldn't see the muscles, and he was still just as skinny as he had always been, he could feel them.

He was no longer running away - from his brothers, from the school yard bullies - nor was he running to catch up to others in his program. He felt for the first time like he was running to something. It was still just out of his grasp, but he kept pushing himself further and further every time, knowing that soon it would come into view.

* * *

><p>The weather had been on a downward turn the last few days, which for most of the country meant snow, but for Seattle meant grey skies and lots of rain. George hated the rain. He hated the feeling of cold that penetrated his skin and went all the way to his bones. He felt it before he saw it - the drizzle from above, more of a mist than a rain ready to cling to him the second he went outside. He hated that mist, the fog, the clouds that refused to stay in the sky.<p>

"You coming, George?" Izzie's voice rose above the rest of the waiting room chatter, waiting for a reply.

"No, I'm going to uh, hit the gym."

She shrugged, gathering up her bags and meeting Meredith on the way to the doors, laughing as the conversation started and they entered the cold and rain. Meredith looked back once, briefly past the glass, but then pulled her jacket closer and kept going towards her car.

He stood, watching for a moment, before turning around to head towards the opposite end of the building.

* * *

><p>He usually made time to run before his shift, not after. Usually afterwards he wanted nothing more than to collapse into a warm bed and sleep for the same amount of time he had just been working. On occasion, he would postpone the sleep until after they'd gone to Joe's and pushed the horrors of the day away until all they reveled in were triumphs.<p>

Today, though, the cold kept him away from sleep far more than any tragedy ever could. He had worked a full shift, and he was tired, but the need to warm his muscles drove away any thoughts of bed. He was exhausted, and even the thought of interaction with his house-mates seemed tiring, but he longed to run. He longed for the feeling of independence running gave him, as he got closer and closer to his unknown goal.

He stretched and was reaching an even pace when he saw him get on the track in front of him. Taller, fitter, apparently much more attractive than George, Alex personified everything that George wasn't, and Alex never let an opportunity to remind him of that pass by.

And now, there he was, invading his gym. The thing that George was running towards was pushed aside, and suddenly, he was once again running to chase. Chasing Alex, chasing the confidence, chasing the cockiness he knew girls found appealing.

He kept a set distance between them, making Alex his marker, noticing the difference in speed whenever a new song must have started on Alex's MP3 player, but still keeping up. He didn't think that Alex even knew he was there - he kept running, slowly moving faster and faster until he almost reached a sprint speed rather than the marathon speed he had started with. And George kept up.

If Alex wasn't there, he would have slowed down. It was a tougher run than George had previously allowed himself, but despite the push to run harder and faster, George was pleasantly surprised at how well he adjusted to the other man's pace.

Finally, just as George was about to exhaust himself, Alex slowed to a cool down pace, and George kept running, over taking and then continuing around the track for another few laps. It was exhilarating, not exhausting - his own personal triumph giving him the motivation to keep going. It wasn't until Alex left the track to stretch that he allowed himself to slow his pace.

His legs shook and his lungs burned, but his body felt better than it had in days, weeks, maybe even months. Sitting down to stretch, his wet shirt clinging to his back, he noticed that the cold that was in his bones had faded, until it was non-existent. He smiled and he compulsively looked around to see if Alex was still there, if he had seen him on the track, but he had gone.

* * *

><p>George visited his locker to grab his towel and bath gel, before heading for the shower. The girls had made fun of the bath gel, teasing him, implying his un-manliness, but it soothed his muscles more than regular soap. The cool scent opened his sinuses, his lungs, and refreshed him. Maybe it was just the advertising, but he was convinced it made a difference.<p>

The individual showers, mostly used by people that needed help washing after physio, were all taken, and George walked past them with a sigh. He didn't mind the open showers, but having his patients see him showering was usually something he liked to avoid. The open showers were vacant, George noted appreciatively as he walked under the welcome warm spray. He stood under the scalding spray for a minute before even moving, then rolled his shoulders and stretched his neck as the warmth banished the aches from his body.

A draft came through briefly from the door opening and closing as Alex made his way towards the showers. George turned towards the wall, grabbing his bath gel, avoiding Alex's gaze and averting his own.

"Hey," Alex offered, and George repeated the non-committal greeting. It was silent as George and Alex both began to rinse.

"You gave quite run out there," Alex tried again. "I'm going to be sore tomorrow."

George paused for a moment before replying. "Thanks."

"I mean, who knew you had it in you?" Alex said, avoiding George's silent cues to stop and allowing the cockiness to grow in his voice. "George Porgie pudding and pie, kissed the girls and made them cry, when the boys came out to play..."

"Georgie Porgie ran away. Yeah, I know. Whatever."

"Maybe you should try kissing more girls and then not running away."

"Can I just have my shower in silence, please?"

"Or at least start kissing some girls. Come on, George, have you even gotten any lately? Or was Olivia your last? Because while she's good..."

"That was all your fault in the first place!" George yelled, stepping away from the water. "Just... just stay out of my business."

Alex raised his eyebrows and then turned back to his warm stream of water for a minute before muttering, "dammit, forgot my soap."

George hesitated before tossing the bath gel across the room towards him. "Use mine."

Alex smirked, looking at the bottle. "Bath Gel, O'Malley? Livin' with those girls too long."

George ignored him and went back to stretching his arms under the warm spray.

"If I wasn't looking right at you, I'd think you were completely de-balled." He glanced over George, the corner of his mouth curving up as he squirted some of the shower gel into his hand. George saw him bring it up to his face, breathing in the refreshing scent before looking back at George, who was rinsing again. "But then again, you are living with two girls," he added, though it wasn't as convincingly as his previous jeers.

George continued to stand under the hot spray, willing Alex away, yet Alex was still rinsing off. Just when he was starting to feel like he was gaining control, one person came and took it away. The runner's high he had felt when he was beating Alex on the track had faded, and he was back to just being tired.

As George was squirting the shampoo into his hand, Alex came over to stand behind him. He handed George back the shower gel over his shoulder, smelling like the spicy rain that George had become accustomed to, and moved closer.

"Seriously, George," Alex breathed into his ear from behind, their bodies not touching but close enough that George could feel his proximity, "nice run today."

George felt Alex's body heat move away, and jumped in reaction to the slightly cooler air around him. He looked at the shampoo in his palm and quickly dumped it on his head, lathering rapidly and carelessly - too carelessly, as he felt the suds drop over his forehead and into his eyes. He gasped, quickly looking up into the spray, washing it away, and barely heard when the other shower in the room turn off. When he finally looked up again, Alex was gone.

George stood stunned under the water, that was still steaming around him and blinked. "Yeah, good run," he muttered before turning off the shower and walking towards the door.

George paused, his hand on his towel, and looked towards where the brief exchange between the two men occurred. He smiled slowly as he thought about taking more post-shift runs.

"Yeah," he muttered once more, "good run."


End file.
